A Hidden Desire
by Devon Petro
Summary: It's the summer holiday after Ginny Weasley's fourth year at Hogwarts. Like a typical fifteen year-old, Ginny is coming to terms with herself as a young woman. Her desires are beginning to take shape, and she realizes that things aren't as she imagined.
1. At the Burrow

I. At the Burrow  
  
It was a summer day like any other at the Burrow. The morning sun shone brilliantly through a patch of high, fluffy clouds. The rolling fields surrounding the ramshackle house drew a sharp, emerald contrast to the impossibly blue sky. In front of the homely dwelling, chickens clucked about busily, pecking their way around the well-trodden grass. Inside, the Weasley family was just starting to wake up. Molly Weasley, the portly matriarch, was shifting hastily about the kitchen, humming as she directed a symphony of magical cooking and cleaning. Ron was first to stumble down the crooked stairs, his red hair askew. He sat down at the worn kitchen table, yawning.  
  
"Morning, mum," he said, squinting at the bright sun. The house seemed awfully empty to him these days. Three of his brothers had left the Burrow over the previous year. Fred and George were busy with their new shop at Diagon Alley, and Percy was no longer talking to his parents. He missed all of his brothers in strange ways, but he didn't mind being the only son that his mother doted over.  
  
"Where is that sister of yours, Ronald?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a voice filled with mock concern. "Let's hope she hasn't nibbled on one of Fred's new Hibernating Humbugs!" Ginny had always been a late riser, but this summer, Ron was often sitting down for lunch when she finally came down the stairs. They expected that she was just a night owl, but nobody at the Burrow really understood what was going on with Ginny. Unbeknownst to her family, she was up with the rising of the sun most mornings. The little sleep she had been getting since returning from Hogwarts was fleeting and restless. As a result, most of her days were spent lazing around the house, listening to the Wizard's Wireless and goading her brother into an occasional game of exploding snap.  
  
Ginny's fourth year at Hogwarts had been a trying one. Between the trouble caused by Professor Umbridge, the temporary Headmaster and High Inquisitor, and the rising concern over the return of Voldemort, her hands were quite full -- much too full for a girl who had only just turned 15. Though she had to contend with aches and pains from lack of rest, Ginny wasn't overly concerned about her inability to sleep. After all, she had faced a pack of Voldemort's notorious Death Eaters only weeks before. She was quite relieved, in fact, that images of the Department of Mysteries didn't return to haunt her brief dreams.  
  
So far, Ginny had been enjoying being alone. Apart from the occasional owl from her boyfriend, she was quite isolated from the Hogwarts world. Serene days at the Burrow were a wonderful change of scenery, far removed from the bustle and drama of school life. Ginny felt like she was making the right decision by isolating herself, but she couldn't be sure. She had transformed from a girl into a woman at such a rapid pace that she scarcely understood herself at all these days. In the past year alone, she'd had a handful of boyfriends, but nearly every relationship came to a swift and messy end. Would it always be this way?  
  
The initial flame of each relationship captivated her. For a time, it felt like she could spend every spare minute with her new boyfriend; but alas, flames are soon to sputter and die. From what she had learned, the price of a boy's attention was a few kisses, a little heavy petting, and a touch of adoration. It was never long until Ginny and her boyfriend were eyeing new prey. Dean Thomas' owls were slowing in frequency, and his frantic scrawls were becoming increasingly terse. She knew that the relationship was soon to be over, and she didn't care. 


	2. Emotion and Confusion

II. Emotion and Confusion  
  
The faint, smoky aroma of cooking sausages roused Ginny from her warm tangle of afghan quilts. Rolling out of bed with a groan, she set herself down on the aged stool in front of her tall, oval-shaped mirror. Over the past few days, she had felt like she didn't even recognize her own reflection. She no longer saw the grinning, pigtailed girl with rosy cheeks that had greeted her every morning for thirteen years. Instead, she saw a young woman with a long mane of dark red hair, staring back with a confused and solemn expression. Ginny was running a brush through her thick hair when an interesting thought dawned on her.  
  
"It's no wonder all of these boys are interested in you," she told herself, "you're becoming quite the young woman." She beheld her well-proportioned face, which had long since shed its awkward, childlike features. The golden freckles of her youth had all but faded into her soft, snow-white skin. She had always been conscious of her curly shock of flame-red hair, but she was now quite satisfied with what it had become. The tight curls had unfurled into a delicate wave, and the shocking red color had gained a darker, auburn quality.  
  
But it wasn't just attention from the boys that told Ginny she was coming along physically. The quick, reproving glances she got from her fellow female students (even those in the fifth, sixth and seventh years) told her all she needed to know. Jealousy glowed in their eyes as they frantically scanned her petite, hourglass-shaped figure. She loved this kind of attention.  
  
Rising from her well-worn stool, Ginny pulled a bathrobe over her pajamas and padded down the uneven stairs to the kitchen. Ron gave Ginny his familiar, wide-eyed look of shock as she sat down opposite him. Mrs. Weasley broke the silence. "Well, look what the crup dragged in! We thought it'd be another lie-in for sleeping beauty!" Ginny flashed a weak smile, spearing a sausage from the plate between her and Ron.  
  
"Say, Ginny," Ron said, regaining his composure as he swallowed a large bit of eggs and sausage, "'d'you fancy a spot of Quidditch today? I feel like it's been ages since I've had my hands on a Quaffle."  
  
Mrs. Weasley was quick to interject. "Now, Ron, what about your guest? I assume she'll be included in this?"  
  
"Oh, I .. uh.. forgot," Ron said guiltily. Glancing back to Ginny, he continued, "I got an owl from 'Mione yesterday. Mum suggested that I invite her over. But Harry can't be along for a bit, since Dumbledore wants him to stay with those bloody muggles for another week or so. Once he's here, I reckon we can get some wicked practice in. Not a bad chaser, Harry. But yeah, 'Mione should be along in an hour or so."  
  
Ginny had expected a visit from Ron's best friends any day now, but for some reason, hearing the news brought a feeling of elation unlike anything she'd felt for months. She and Hermione were quite close, and she savored the hours of gossip they'd accumulated over many long summer nights. Ginny was mulling over the many hours of intimate conversation when she had an odd realization. She'd dreamt about Hermione last night. And the night before. She had, in fact, been dreaming about Hermione a lot lately.  
  
"Probably has to do with what happened at the Ministry," she thought, "and anything's better than seeing Bellatrix Lestrange again." But her dreams hadn't been horrifying at all. She shut her eyes for a moment, and in her mind, she saw what she had dreamt the night before. It was, of course, Hermione. She was smiling, perched on a common room chair in her Hogwarts uniform. A shocking thought pierced Ginny's mind at that moment. It was as if she'd taken a drink, feeling the sweet bite of pumpkin juice on juice on her tongue when she had expected water. She'd never looked at Hermione the way she was now. "She's beautiful," Ginny thought, her mind focusing on Hermione's delicate dimples and billowing locks of chestnut-brown hair.  
  
As suddenly as her mind had slipped away, Ginny was brought back to the present. Her mother had asked her a question. In her reflective state, she'd completely missed the conversation that had been going on.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" she asked casually.  
  
"I said," repeated Mrs. Weasley, her voice adopting a mildly sarcastic tone, "is it all right if Hermione stays in your room again? I'm afraid that Percy's is still quite a mess, and Fred and George's. well let's just say that I'm afraid to put a toe in there myself. Those boys need to come back and clear it out!"  
  
"Of course," Ginny replied, suddenly aware of her heart beating in her chest.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" she thought. "Hermione's been here a million times!" Her mind was once again racing, and she felt a lump in her throat. The ground seemed to fall from beneath her. Could it possibly be true? This was the exact same way she'd felt before Dean Thomas came to visit last week. 


	3. Surfacing

III. Surfacing  
  
Ginny bolted down the rest of her breakfast. Ron was joking and carrying on with their mother across the table, but she felt like she was miles away. To say that she felt confused would be an understatement. For a moment, she wished that she could be as carefree and happy as her brother. He was tucking into a third helping of eggs and sausages, grinning as Mrs. Weasley launched into a rant about the state of the garden. Ginny felt as if her world had been violently shaken; she felt like she didn't know herself anymore. Her emotions were foreign sensations.  
  
"This can't be what you think it is, Ginny," she told herself, rising from the table and making her way slowly back up the stairs. "You need to get more sleep. You have a boyfriend, for Merlin's sake. A boyfriend that more than a few girls fancy, for that matter!" But Ginny was bad at lying to herself. There was a letter sitting on her dresser that she had neglected for a week. She was tired of her back-and-forth correspondence with Dean. All he could muster in his past few letters was "I miss you," or "I wish we could be together today." But it was obvious that he didn't feel that way. Ginny was only a short train ride away from him. He could have visited her a dozen times since he had written that letter.  
  
Ginny emerged from her bedroom an hour later. For some odd reason, she'd felt compelled to look her best. White ribbons clung to her compulsively brushed hair, and she had performed a few makeup spells to highlight her facial features. She wore her best muggle clothing: a pair of silky black slacks and a sleeveless white blouse. Feeling a breath of self-confidence, she strode down the stairs in regal fashion.  
  
"Planning on heading to Diagon Alley, are you?" Ron was smirking from the living room. "I haven't seen you in your muggle bests for months!"  
  
Ginny was thinking up a belligerent response when she was distracted by a rumbling outside the house. It was an automobile. "'Mione's here!" Ron exclaimed, jumping from his chair. Ginny felt as if she were about to sit for an exam. Her heart was fluttering. She was flushed, realizing that she had rushed out to greet Hermione last year. She couldn't bring herself to do it this time. Not today. Out of a dust-coated window, she saw a smiling Hermione hugging Ron. Her mother emerged from the garden, talking rapid-fire as she magically transported her trunk toward the house. Ginny stared at Hermione through the smudged glass, and her stomach clenched. She wanted to look at herself in the mirror once more to make sure that she looked right. Hermione was smiling, politely engaging in small talk with Mrs. Weasley. She seemed totally oblivious to Ginny's stare.  
  
Gathering all of her resolve, Ginny paced slowly into the kitchen. She arrived just as Hermione's trunk was floating through the battered front door. Her mother strode in, absentmindedly waving her wand as she chattered over her shoulder. Ginny winced as Ron stepped through the doorway, followed closely by Hermione.  
  
Her mind froze. "Just . act . normal," she mumbled under her breath, desperately trying to remember what "normal" was. Before she could give it a second thought, Hermione was upon her.  
  
"Ginny! I figured you weren't home!" Hermione was beaming. "You look wonderful!" Ginny was taken by such surprise that she didn't realize that she'd been hugged. Hermione pulled away from their brief embrace like a hummingbird from a flower. She was bouncing on her heels with girlish excitement. Hermione was talking again, but Ginny didn't hear a thing she was saying. She was staring at Hermione with a combination of terror and awe. The picture of Hermione she saw in her mind was one of striking beauty, but Hermione in the flesh was almost too much for her to handle. She tried to keep eye contact, to make it sound as if she was listening, but she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering.  
  
Ginny's heart felt like it was going to explode. She wanted to tell herself that she was going crazy, but how could she deny a feeling so genuine, a feeling so strong? The sight of Hermione's smiling face brought forth a sense of longing so deep that Ginny's body ached. But how could this be? Hermione was a girl. And Ginny was a girl, too. She had always fancied boys, anyway. Maybe a good night's sleep would put all of this behind her. But she couldn't master her emotions. Her eyes wandered to Hermione's neckline. She could almost feel her soft skin. She inhaled deeply, taking in her familiar scent. It was a smell she knew well - shampoo, a hint of fabric softener and a certain essence that was all her own - but it touched something inside of her today. She realized that she'd been longing for something, for someone, ever since she'd returned from Hogwarts. She now knew who it was that she needed. But she couldn't accept it. How could she? What would Hermione think?  
  
By the time Ginny had regained her composure, Hermione had resumed her discussion with Ron. Ginny had to get away from the uncomfortable situation at hand. It was a quandary that threatened to eat her alive. She wanted desperately to be with Hermione, but she didn't even know what she'd do when they had a moment alone. Quietly excusing herself, Ginny walked through the still-open door. The grass felt warm against her bare feet and the dry summer air returned her to her senses. Ginny didn't know where to go, or what to do with herself.  
  
"Maybe I should visit Dean," she thought, "maybe that would straighten me out." But she didn't feel like subjecting herself to the muggle world. Her mind wandered once again, and for a moment, all she could see and hear was Hermione. If only she could perform a bit of magic. That would take her mind off of everything.  
  
Ginny turned toward the moss-covered shed at the edge of the garden. She was going to have to settle for the next best thing: flying. Bill's old Quidditch broom was her favorite of the lot, and she had long since found and explored its limits. After struggling momentarily with the rotting door, she retrieved the weatherworn broom. Mounting it, she flew from the shed. Flying had an amazing way of taking her mind off of things. She pointed the gray, log-like broom upward and ascended rapidly until the Burrow was a mere matchstick to her sight. Aiming downward, the patchwork of hedges below her expanded until she was mere feet above her garden. She shot ahead, pulling up to miss the hedge at the last moment.  
  
"I can't wait 'til Quidditch season," she thought. But then a painful memory returned. It must have been a flash of gold, the glare off of a distant windscreen. A clear vision of Harry Potter came to her, and she remembered how strong her feelings had been for him. She'd been just as tongue-tied around him as she was around Hermione. Where did those feelings go? Why were they never as intense? She certainly thought of Harry as quite an attractive young man, but she realized that she no longer harbored any romantic interest toward him. Memories coursed through her mind, and before she knew it, she was thinking of Hermione again. She floated lazily around the large garden.  
  
"Oy! Ginny!" A voice boomed from behind her. Ginny turned, unsurprised to see Ron shooting toward her on his new broom. A series of nervous laughs erupted from behind him, and suddenly Hermione came into sight, riding precariously on a very ancient Weasley broom. Ginny came to a halt and dismounted. With difficulty, Hermione followed suit. Ron went into a grand climb, disappearing from sight.  
  
"Is everything all right, Ginny?" Hermione asked, her trademark smile fading. "You've been awfully quiet."  
  
"Y-y-yes, thanks," Ginny answered, her heart racing once again.  
  
"Are you sure? It's okay if you're still a bit shaken from what happened at the Ministry. I think we all are. I never expected I'd do something like that on my first visit."  
  
"No, er, I mean, I'm fine."  
  
"Well, if you want to talk about it. you know, while Ron's not around. I think we'll have some time to do that tonight."  
  
Hermione stepped closer to Ginny, smiling warmly. Ginny wanted to step backward and forward at the same time. She compromised by staying rooted to the spot. She pictured herself alone with Hermione in her room, and smiled, the first real smile she'd shown all day. Ron came zooming back into sight, clutching a faded Quaffle.  
  
"Let's use the fork in that tree over there. You know how to do this, 'Mione?"  
  
Hermione giggled and mounted her broom. She was a terrible flier, and she knew it. Ginny reluctantly followed her lead. Ron tossed the Quaffle to Ginny, taking off for a distant tree with a burst of speed. Ginny's broom certainly couldn't keep up, but it wasn't for lack of trying. As soon as she'd caught it, she threw the Quaffle with everything she had, sending it spinning beyond Ron's reach. It lodged itself tightly between the fork in the trunk of the tree that Ron was defending.  
  
"Bloody hell, Ginny, that was brilliant! You'll be a shoe-in on next year's team!"  
  
Ginny smiled again. Quidditch definitely helped take her mind off of things, even if the "thing" she was most worried about was watching her the whole time. Ginny turned to Hermione, who had cautiously drifted up to her while Ron struggled with the stuck Quaffle. She reached out.  
  
"I wonder if I can even stay on this thing without gripping it," she murmured, staring nervously at the ground below. With a shriek, she grabbed Ginny's bare arm. "I feel like I'm going to fall!" She pulled Ginny closer to regain her balance. Ginny felt a familiar flutter, but didn't resist. She certainly didn't want Hermione to fall. Hermione steadied herself, now facing Ginny. Her hands were gripped firmly on her shoulders. For the first time that day, their eyes locked. Hermione's brown eyes had nothing to hide. They smiled nervously at Ginny, who knew that her eyes must have told a completely different story. They were so close that their broomsticks were clacking together in the gentle breeze, but Ginny hardly noticed. Before she could stop herself, her hands were resting gently on Hermione's waist. Hermione let out a nervous kind of laugh, unperturbed, but still worried about falling off of her broom. Ginny wanted to do something more, to say something, but words failed her. Suddenly, a hoarse yell startled both of them, and soon, Hermione had pulled away.  
  
"Oy! What is this, a night at the Black Cat Club? Stop your dancing and let's play Quidditch!" Ron lobbed the Quaffle back to Ginny. She sighed, caught the Quaffle and threw it back half-heartedly.  
  
"You're dreaming," she thought, "you shouldn't lead yourself on like this." 


	4. Running, Not Hiding

IV. Running, not Hiding  
  
Practicing with Ron had long since lost its allure when he mercifully decided to call it quits. He must have noticed Ginny's lack of effort before that point, because he kept pleading for shots like the first one she'd lobbed. Ginny had put up what felt like her best effort, but her mind simply wasn't in it. The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. It felt like trying to whistle in a windstorm. Her thoughts were consumed by Hermione. She ended up observing her from a distance, looming in front of her bedroom window like a ghost. Sweet visions were swimming through Ginny's head as Ron and Hermione wandered the garden below. Only hours ago, she had held Hermione in her arms. The bittersweet memory was sustaining her, but it left her thirsty for so much more. She wanted to hold Hermione close, to run her hands through her curls. She wanted to feel Hermione's body against hers.  
  
But she could only let her imagination run so far before reining it in. The feelings she felt were completely new to her, and her joy was tinged with guilt. She'd heard that being in love was better than anything, but could it be the same if she loved a girl? Hermione was beautiful to her in so many ways. She'd always seen the beauty in her soul. She'd scarcely met such a caring and accepting girl. She hadn't, however, noticed Hermione's external beauty until today. Her smile never failed to light up the room, and her long, elegant arms seemed to beckon Ginny nearer. Her slender body was reaching the peak of its womanhood, and even through her conservative muggle clothing, Ginny saw a cornucopia of gentle curves that intoxicated her mind. The boys at Hogwarts seemed to gloss over Hermione, reserving their goggling for less brainy girls, but Hermione had sent an international Quidditch star head over heels. This was a boy that could have any girl he wanted.  
  
"Ginny, supper!" Mrs. Weasley's voice shattered the window into Ginny's quiet dream world. "Hurry up, it's not getting any warmer!"  
  
Ginny limped from the room, feeling torn inside. In one breath, she was happy. She would be sitting with Hermione. But she knew that she'd have to bury her true feelings again, and she was terrible at hiding her emotions. She rounded the bend at the foot of the staircase and made her way to the dinner table. Like many nights before, her father was absent, off on a raid or on duty with the Order. Ron was chattering away about his prefect duties as he stabbed his fork into a large fillet of fried fish.  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione said through a smile, "Where have you been today? Ron and I had to tend to an infestation of horklumps after lunch. We reckon the gnomes keep coming back to get them." Ginny answered with a weak laugh. She was trying her best not to stare longingly at Hermione.  
  
Her appetite vanished. Helping herself to a small piece of fish and a handful of Molly's homemade chips, she hoped she could eat quickly and leave. After forcing down the contents of her small plate, Ginny rose to her feet.  
  
"I think I left my broom out," Ginny said unconvincingly. She was already out the door when Ron yelled after her.  
  
"What are you, a bloody nutter? I was with you when you put it away!"  
  
Ginny broke into a run as soon as she was out of sight. She entered the hedged garden and sat herself down on a soft patch of grass. "They'll think something's wrong," she thought, half hoping that somebody would rush out to see what her problem was. But she had a sudden change of heart. "I hope they don't. How could I expect anybody to understand this? Maybe I am a 'bloody nutter'."  
  
The sun was setting over a distant hill. It had been another beautiful day, but Ginny was so trapped inside of herself that she didn't appreciate it. She couldn't no longer hold back her emotions. In a flash, all of the pent-up love and confusion she'd felt over the past 12 hours were flowing from her. She was crying harder than she had ever cried. Her body shook as she sobbed. Every tear afforded her a small amount of relief, but the deep-seated sense of self-loathing she felt wasn't going away. She hung her head, trying to ignore the beauty of the sunset before her.  
  
Then, as she shakily drew a breath, a gentle hand touched her face. She saw an angel through her blurred eyes; an angel that appeared deeply concerned for her. She lifted her arm to wipe her tear-soaked face, and Hermione came into focus.  
  
"It's okay, Ginny," Hermione said, just above a whisper. "It's okay."  
  
"N-n-no, it's not!" Ginny launched into another fit of tears. She struggled to talk between sobs. "You have no idea." She drew a deep breath, but the tears didn't stop.  
  
"Is it Dean? I always wondered about him." Hermione continued to stroke Ginny's face.  
  
"No!" Ginny shouted, now consciously trying to resist the power of Hermione's touch. "I don't want to talk about it, OK?" She shut her eyes, finally savoring the feel of Hermione's long fingers as they caressed her damp cheek and straightened her hair.  
  
"Shhhh," Hermione said calmly, "Ron's back up in the house. I don't want him to think that we're having a row. You know that he doesn't handle things like this well." Ginny giggled to spite herself. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it now. And it's OK to cry." Hermione continued to comfort Ginny, whose eyes were now closed, her tear-stained face showing a look of dreamy ecstasy.  
  
"You need sleep," Hermione said after a long moment of silence, "you've looked tired since I arrived." But Hermione didn't stir yet. Ginny felt loved, and for a moment, it was as if she was the girl she remembered, sharing a private moment with one of her dearest friends. And yet, there was more to it than that. Hermione's touch radiated through Ginny, and she soaked up each gentle caress like an attention-starved cat. Her head moved to the rhythm of Hermione's warm hand. At length, she leaned in to Hermione's shoulder, breathing deeply. Shutting her eyes, she once again noticed the heart beating in her chest as Hermione embraced her. In a fraction of moment, her sorrow was gone. Her tears were spent, driven away by a flame of desire so strong that it nearly swept her away. She drew her shaking hands around Hermione's back, gently drawing her closer. Her eyes were sticky from crying, but she opened them slightly, stealing a furtive glance down Hermione's billowing blouse.  
  
"You've got to stop this," said the sensible voice in her head, "you'll scare her." But she couldn't help herself. Her hands stopped high on Hermione's back as her eyes washed over the young girl's breasts. She felt the pattern of a small, lacy bra. She had to fight herself, as she desperately wanted to reach for the clasps. A devilish scenario appeared in her mind, and she forced her eyes shut, trying her hardest to block it out. She wanted to force Hermione to ground. She wanted to explore every inch of her beautiful body. She wanted to be a part of Hermione. A tingling sensation shot through her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt. Her breathing sped up, and for a moment, she was shivering uncontrollably. Ginny pushed herself away from Hermione, flushing as she sat awkwardly on the grass.  
  
"Let's go back to the house and get you to bed," Hermione said, mistakenly thinking that Ginny was about to succumb to another fit of tears. "I could use a bit of bed myself." The sun was gone, and a few bright stars twinkled in the darkening sky. Ginny nodded, taking Hermione's hand and rising shakily to her feet. She felt a chill as the thin layer of sweat on her chest evaporated into the cool night air. A soothing sense of relief flowed over her damp body, and something dawned on her. Had she just experienced the sensation that spawned dozens of articles in her mother's Bewitched magazines? Her senses confirmed this, and she felt both lucky and embarrassed. Hermione had no idea. 


	5. Emotion Uncovered

V. Emotion Uncovered  
  
Hermione lead the way back to the Burrow. The living room windows cast a comfortable glow across the lawn. Through the window nearest them, they could see Molly Weasley sitting on her favorite chair; her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. Ginny was exhausted from her sudden outburst of desire, and for once, she felt like she might sleep through the night. She walked wearily through the door, turning toward the staircase.  
  
"Oh, there you are, my dears! Ron just went up to his room. I've set up a nice bed for Hermione in your room, Ginny. Try not to stay up all night!" Ginny flashed her mother a drunken smile as sleepiness beckoned her to her soft bed. Hermione swept up behind Ginny, pushing her toward the stairs.  
  
She was suddenly back in her room. With a sigh, Hermione flopped down onto the canvas-covered cot Mrs. Weasley had prepared for her. Ginny edged through the narrow gap between her and Hermione's beds to follow suit. She collapsed onto the soft pile of blankets and drew a few deep breaths. Hermione was breathing softly just below her. Turning, she could see the profile of her face, just visible over the tangle of quilts beside her.  
  
"I love the Burrow," Hermione said, staring at the crooked beams on the ceiling. "It almost feels more like home to me than my parents house."  
  
"Mm-hmm," Ginny said as she drifted gently into the warm arms of sleep. The girls lay quietly for a few moments. Hermione broke the silence by standing up. Her empty cot creaked as she walked to her trunk in the corner. Ginny opened her weary eyes slightly, squinting in the light of the enchanted lantern on the ceiling. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Hermione in the corner, pulling off her blouse. She knew that this shouldn't have shocked her the way it did, of course. Only last year, she and Hermione had changed in front of each other on a daily basis. But now, she lay wide-eyed, staring at Hermione's delicate figure like a child before a shop window. Her hand reached across her pale back, unfastening her bra. Ginny bit her quilt, hoping she could kill the guilty desire that threatened to explode from her, but her eyes remained fixed. Hermione hastily eased her jeans to the floor, revealing a shapely pair of legs. She was so slender, so slight. Finally, her auburn curls fell to the small of her back as she eased into her nightdress. Ginny told herself that she would treasure the images she had just seen until the end of her days. All of her tiredness had ebbed away by this point. By the time Hermione lowered herself back into the bed, Ginny's eyes were distant, staring blankly at the wall opposite her.  
  
"Are you all right, Ginny?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. Ginny remained silent as mingled visions danced before her unseeing eyes. Hermione's voice was music to her, and she wanted desperately to answer. But she felt as if her voice had left her. There was no way she could express the way she felt - not in words, not in actions. She was worried Hermione would never talk to her again if she did. Couldn't she just be the way she was before?  
  
Of course she couldn't, and she wasn't helped by the fact that she enjoyed her new reverie. Below the surface of her shallow self-loathing, she felt a certain warmth. It was as if she knew that somebody was there for her in the world -- somebody that cared for her, and more importantly, somebody that she cared for. For the moment, she didn't mind that Hermione was a girl. Hermione was a kind soul. Plus, she thought, she didn't feel this way for any other girls that she could think of. She realized that she had to muster up a response before Hermione got worried.  
  
"Yeah," she laughed, "just so tired that I can't sleep."  
  
"Well," Hermione said in a tired, know-it-all type of voice, "you should get into your nightgown."  
  
Ginny froze. Watching Hermione undress was one thing. But undressing in front of her? A sudden self-consciousness gripped her. She rose from bed mechanically and crouched next to her dresser, hurriedly pulling off her blouse. "Relax. Of course she isn't watching," Ginny told herself. She shot a backward glance at Hermione, who had resumed staring at the ceiling. A few nervous moments later, she was in her lacy nightgown, pulling the covers up to her chin.  
  
"'Nite, Ginny," Hermione yawned. Before Ginny could respond, Hermione's breaths deepened. She was asleep. Ginny tossed and turned for a few minutes before finally succumbing. She knew it would be a fitful night as she let herself drift away. A dream came to her immediately.  
  
She was sitting under a tree in a large, gray field. In front of her was an ancient Hogwarts desk. Looking down, she could see that she was in her school uniform.  
  
"Hi," said a dreamy voice next to her. Hermione was sitting on the stool beside her.  
  
"Hermione," Ginny whispered. She reached out her hand to touch Hermione's face. Far from recoiling, Hermione welcomed Ginny's touch. Her eyes slowly closed and a quiet moan escaped from her smiling lips. Her skin felt like warm silk to Ginny's steady hand. She moved from Hermione's dimpled cheek to her hair, where she fondled the tinys curl like flowers. The world around her swirled and faded as Ginny drew herself closer. Her hands moved to Hermione's hips, and the girls were suddenly so close that their noses were touching. Hermione tilted her head back, allowing Ginny to give her a soft kiss. Her lips were as amazing as Ginny could have imagined; more soft and sweet than the finest Honeyduke confection.  
  
Ginny was lost in a world of pleasure when her fitful slumber was interrupted. Soon she was awake, her dream slipping away from her like a loose cloak. The moon shone brightly through her window as she looked around the room. The house was silent. Even the ghoul upstairs seemed to have turned in for the night. Ginny sat up, wiping a fine mist of sweat from her forehead. Hermione was only inches away from her, sleeping peacefully. Her face wore the same expression she had seen in her dream. The warmth of the evening had caused her to push her blankets to floor, exposing the figure Ginny had beheld hours before. She marveled at the beautiful body before her, the small chest rising at a slow, predictable rhythm. Staring soon became too much for her to handle, and she rolled over, trying to deny herself the opportunity to look upon that which was most beautiful to her. Before she could prevent it, sleep washed over her again.  
  
"Ginny," Hermione's voice was as lively as it had ever been. "Ginny, it's getting late!" Ginny yanked on her covers to shield her morning face. Fortunately, Hermione left the room as soon as Ginny opened her eyes. This was a relief, since Ginny felt more self-conscious than she ever had. Hastily pulling herself from her bed, she glanced into the mirror before running downstairs for breakfast. This was later than she'd woken up all summer. After eating and getting ready, she waited for the day to materialize. For some odd reason, she had begun to feel much more comfortable around Hermione. It wasn't that her feelings had dulled. If anything, it was quite the contrary. It was more like she better accepted the way she felt. Hermione remained her normal, upbeat self, chattering non-stop about Hogwarts and the spells that she planned on trying when she returned.  
  
Unlike the previous day of avoidance, Ginny found herself silently following Hermione everywhere she went. They took a brief stroll through the garden, fetched some knarl quills from the cellar for Molly, and after brief debate, ended up traveling by Floo Powder to Diagon Alley for a quick visit with Fred and George. Ginny felt a swell of pride as her brothers showcased their latest inventions. They had been working on something they called a Creature Cloak, a green cape that made its wearer look like a cross between an ape and a crocodile. The store was coming along wonderfully, and Hermione was excited to see that her classmates were among the store's best patrons. Ginny followed Hermione as she left the store an hour later, waving to Fred as she swung open the heavy, glass-paned door to Diagon Alley. Fred shot her a knowing glance as she disappeared from sight. "Could he know?" she wondered.  
  
Hermione visited all of her favorite shops with Ginny by her side. Ron had tagged along for the journey, and he lagged clumsily behind. They enjoyed a light lunch at The Leaky Cauldron before wandering into the apothecary, where Hermione hoped to find some ingredients for a tricky potion she had been working on. Most of the shops on the alley were closed when Hermione emerged with a small bag of black powder in hand.  
  
"It's about time!" Ron howled in an exasperated tone. He had felt like the third wheel for most of the day. Hermione had tramped into every bookshop on the alley looking for a good manual on medical charms, and as usual, Ginny was right by her side. Ron ended up returning to his brothers' shop every few hours, leaving the female pair to their own devices. These were pleasantly nervous moments for Ginny. She had worn the same silly grin all day, eminently pleased to be spending time with the girl that sat at the center of her universe.  
  
Hermione was book smart, but she was terrible at reading the feelings of others. She did realize that Ginny had been awfully quiet over the past two days, but she didn't think, much of it. "We all go through cycles," she thought. "Maybe she misses having Fred and George around." Either way, she had been enjoying the extra attention Ginny was showing her. Most of the time it was just Harry and Ron, some of the best friends a person could hope for, but also some of the most "boyish" people she knew.  
  
After a dizzying floo ride back to the Burrow, none of the trio felt much like eating. Ron retired to his room to try out a new deck of cards that George had given him. Sensing opportunity, Ginny loudly mentioned that she was going for a stroll. Hermione followed her without a word. Hopeful butterflies danced in Ginny's stomach as they started across the well- trodden lawn in front of the Burrow. She felt like she had to say something.  
  
"Did you have fun at the alley?"  
  
"Yes, of course," Hermione responded. She matched her footsteps to Ginny's and reached out her arm. To Ginny's surprise, she linked up with her, and they continued arm-in-arm toward a small patch of woods in the distance. "It's so much better than any muggle mall."  
  
Ginny felt so light and happy that she wondered if she might spontaneously take flight. She was holding onto the girl of her dreams, the person that she had thought about non-stop for days. "I'm like Ron with a new Firebolt," she thought, giggling quietly. Ginny's joy got the best of her, and she ran her fingers down Hermione's arm, finally finding her small, soft hand. It opened like a flower and gently grasped Ginny's fingers. "Could this be?" she thought. "Could this really be true?" Hermione laughed seductively.  
  
"Oh, Ginny. What would I do without you? Sometimes I feel that you're the only who understands. The only girl I can see eye-to-eye with." Ginny's heart leapt into her mouth. Her eyes began to water. Her dreams were coming true, right before her eyes. They continued walking quietly. Soon, they strolled into the wood, their footsteps crackling as they crossed the leaf-covered floor. They walked among the widely spaced trees in silence for a few moments, while Ginny wondered what she should do next. "You're a true friend," said Hermione, showing a smile that almost drove Ginny to her knees. The bubble of hope that had made her feel so light before suddenly deflated.  
  
"Friend?" she thought frantically. "Just 'friend'?" She swallowed nervously. Her palm grew sweaty against Hermione's, but she held on anyway. Suddenly, Hermione stopped. Dropping Ginny's sweaty hand, she looked directly into her eyes, a hint of a smile flitting across her lips. She drew Ginny in with a tender hug, holding her close.  
  
Ginny's mind was reeling as she returned the embrace. Hermione's beautiful hair rubbed softly against in her face. Her sweet breath blew gently into her ear. She felt the body for which she had longed so desperately pressed lightly against her own -- the slender arms, the soft face and (though she tried to ignore them) the small, tender breasts. To say that Ginny was stimulated would be a severe understatement. Her heart pounded desperately and a bittersweet lump formed in her throat. Hermione fit her like a glove. She longed to kiss her, to live out her culpable dream. Her straight, red hair tangled with Hermione's auburn tresses. Tears were suddenly falling down her cheeks. It was so unfair. She wanted something dearly. Something that she couldn't have. Hermione finally pulled away from the long embrace.  
  
Ginny looked down, hoping that Hermione wouldn't notice that she was crying again. "Ginny," Hermione whispered, her voice mingling with the hush of leaves. Ginny looked up with difficulty. To her surprise, Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. "That was amazing," she said, her airy voice trembling. They stared at each other at arm's length. Ginny's desires were fighting for escape, but she felt frozen, held in place by a knowing gaze from Hermione's deep brown eyes. Seconds passed like hours, and finally, Ginny closed her eyes, warm tears still rolling down her face.  
  
She felt a soft breath on her cheek, followed by a slow caress. Ginny opened her eyes to see Hermione, withdrawing her soft, smiling lips. Hermione's face melted into a tear-soaked smile. 


	6. The Power of Feeling

VI. The Power of Feeling  
  
Ginny felt torn. It certainly felt like her dreams were coming true -- but "friend"? That was what Hermione had said. And the kiss? She'd seen her kiss Harry on the cheek several times, and there was definitely nothing going on between those two. The words echoed in her head as she stood, her eyes still locked on Hermione's. She'd said that the hug "was amazing." Didn't that count for anything? After all, Ginny was a witch - perhaps the strength of her emotions had added a little something to the embrace. If Hermione felt the way Ginny did at the time, it certainly wouldn't have gone unnoticed.  
  
Hermione breathed in, her tears nearly spent. Ginny felt like the once- open door to Hermione's emotions had suddenly snapped shut. She mastered herself once again. It took all of her resolve to speak calmly. "We should get back. It's getting dark and I suspect mother will skin us alive if we're late." Hermione giggled, a trace of a tear rolling from her eye.  
  
The girls hurried back to the Burrow as darkness was falling. This time, Ginny forced herself to keep her distance. She was once again convinced that friendship was all she could ever get from Hermione. Perhaps she would have to settle with the memory of a gentle kiss on the cheek. It would fit well with the lovely images that were etched into her mind from the previous evening. When they finally returned to the Burrow, Arthur Weasley's raspy laugh was issuing from an open door. Ginny hurried in ahead of Hermione, rushing toward her father. He wore a look of tired satisfaction.  
  
"Hello Ginny," Mr. Weasley said as he hugged his daughter, "you've been staying out of trouble, I trust? Molly said you've been to Diagon Alley!" Arthur raised a battered tankard to his lips after grinning at Hermione. "How are Fred and George?"  
  
"Wonderful," Hermione replied, hardly allowing Mr. Weasley to finish his sentence. "They've got this new cloak that uses some kind of transifguratory spell. Quite brilliant! How are things at the Order?"  
  
Ginny's attention was quick to fade as her father carried on with Hermione. She set herself down at the scrubbed table. Once again, she couldn't resist staring at Hermione. Her presence filled the room with a warming sense of positive energy. And she was so beautiful. Just looking at her slender body made Ginny ache to feel it pressed against her own once again. She smiled, for a moment feeling like she was proudly eyeing her girlfriend from across the room. "Stop thinking like that," Ginny told herself. "What happened in the woods is probably a distant memory to her now." She felt like her suspicions were confirmed when her longing glance was ignored. An aching sense of want gripped her, and she was once again despairing. She was a prisoner to her own desire.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was bringing supper to the table just as Ron came tramping down the stairs. He had his nose buried in Keeper: the Unsung Quidditch Hero, a book that Harry had sent along through owl order earlier that day.  
  
"No reading at the table, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said gravely.  
  
"Aww, mum," Ron sighed, gently setting down the leather-bound volume on a rickety table next to the stairs.  
  
Ginny took consolatory delight in the fact that Ron would be preoccupied that evening. It meant that she'd have more time alone with Hermione. Of course she wanted more than she was getting, but at the moment, she felt that merely looking into Hermione's deep and caring eyes could sustain her.  
  
Dinner came and went, and once again, Ginny could hardly eat a bite. She was an emotional wreck. Part of her was upbeat, happy to at least be spending time with the object of her desires. But a larger part of her was full of despair. She constantly told herself that she had to let go of her feelings. "How could this ever work?" she thought to herself for the thousandth time that day. It was a difficult question. How could it work? If by some miracle, Hermione were able to return the feelings that Ginny had for her, would they return to Hogwarts as a happy couple? Would they be forced to keep it all a secret? Sure, it was possible, if only remotely. Ginny giggled at the thought of arriving at the Yule Ball with Hermione on her arm, reflecting on how beautiful she looked when she arrived with Viktor Krum several years before.  
  
By the time the table was cleared, it was already quite late. Hermione was settled down in the living room, where she had sat down to read her new book on medical spells alongside Ron. Ginny thought about joining them for a moment. "I should really go up to my room," she told herself. It had been an emotionally taxing day for her, a combination of extreme ups and downs that left her feeling weak. She stole silently up the stairs and whisked into her room. It was just as she had left it that morning. Hermione's bed was neatly made, the hand-darned blankets carefully smoothed, tucked in closely against the pillows. Ginny's bed was the same unmade mess that it was every day. She jumped onto her mattress, resting in an uncomfortable position atop her tangle of quilts. After a few moments of staring at the long shadows cast by the rough beams on her ceiling, Ginny reached beneath her sagging mattress to retrieve her journal.  
  
After the unfortunate occurrence with Lucius Malfoy's Tom Riddle diary, Ginny was put off from most any kind of writing. But in the past year, she had found a lot of emotional solace by pouring her thoughts into a non- magical journal. After fetching a small quill and inkbottle, she was ready to let it all out. She rolled her eyes at what seemed like complete idiocy to her now, a long bit of prose from June wherein she discussed how much she missed Dean. She hurriedly flipped the page, her thoughts were begging for release. In an instant, her ink-filled quill was frantically crossing the white parchment in front of her.  
  
"Another day passes," she wrote, "and my heart is still beating. It tells me that, at the very least, I am still alive. And so does the pain I feel; the pain of desire. And the joy, the happiness. Love is a many-layered thing. It feeds my soul while starving my flesh. I can say with certainty that I have never known love until now; until it came to me, like an angel descended from the heavens to grace my life and brighten my days. But alas, love is also cruel. I am forced to watch my life passing from afar, fearful of what might happen if I follow my heart." Ginny paused. Hermione's tearful smile flashed before her eyes. "And that, above all, is where I find the deepest hurt. I may be young, as many are keen to remind me, but I am old enough to understand my own feelings." The weight of Ginny's writings began to take sway. A fresh wave of tears swelled inside her. "Words cannot express," she continued, as a single tear fell to the page, "the power of the emotions that have swept over me. My mind is consumed by the image of the one I love. The beauty. The passion. I never thought that I could be so enveloped by a single soul. And yet my hands are bound. I am forbidden to express my love, for fear that I will not be loved in return. For fear," she paused, drawing a weak, shuddering breath, "that I will lose something so very dear to me. So I am left to wait, holding onto a whisper of hope, savoring my dreams. I have no choice but to bury my desire. To hide from myself."  
  
Once again, Ginny was crying, suddenly struck by the power of her emotion. She had thought that bringing her feelings into the open would dull their effect, but she now realized just how wrong she was. The words that covered the small page of parchment in front of her expressed only a fraction of the way she felt. Writing them down brought her most painful emotions to the fore. Tears continued to fall on the open page, mixing with the fresh ink like a watercolor painting. She continued to cry as her door opened, admitting a very concerned Hermione.  
  
"Ginny? Are you sure everything is okay?" Hermione hurriedly shut the crooked door behind her. "I've never seen you like this." She set herself down gently on the edge of Ginny's bed.  
  
Ginny shook her head, wiping her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow of her tears.  
  
"I'll listen if you need to talk about it. I'm here for you, Ginny," Hermione continued, "no matter what." Ginny looked Hermione in the eye, briefly pondering whether she could take her for her word. Hermione noticed Ginny's journal, laying open before her. "Oh, er, if you're busy writing, I can come back later. I only thought."  
  
"No! Don't go!" Ginny struggled to speak clearly through sobs. "Please!" She rolled over onto her side and clutched a lumpy pillow. Once again, her emotion took control of her. Her body shook as she wept. Hermione looked on in uncomfortable concern. She lay herself down next to Ginny, slowly running her fingers through her hair.  
  
"It's all right if you don't want to talk about it, Ginny," Hermione said quietly. "I'm still going to be here for you." Hermione lay silently, smoothing the tangles in Ginny's thick hair. Slowly, Ginny recovered some stability, and her heavy breaths faded to a normal cadence. "It's okay," Hermione whispered. Gently removing her graceful hand from Ginny's head, Hermione sat up. She closed Ginny's diary and handed it to her.  
  
Ginny leaned forward slightly. "It's now or never," she thought. "You're going to have to do this some time, or it will end up eating you alive." She drew a deep breath. Her eyes stung from an evening drenched in tears. "Hermione," Ginny said, barely above a whisper, "I want you to read it."  
  
"Wha? Me? Are you sure?" Hermione wasn't sure what to think. But Ginny's grave expression told her that she had heard correctly.  
  
Hermione turned to face Ginny, and the journal fell open, revealing a tear- stained page. She carefully surveyed the blotted words. Once more, it was her turn to cry. "Oh Ginny," Hermione gasped, drawing breath as if the air had suddenly grown thin, "I'm so sorry. I should have known." She pulled Ginny in close, drawing her tear-stained face into her chest. "Your words are so beautiful. so sad." Soon, she was crying as hard as Ginny had a moment before. "You don't need . to tell me who it is," Hermione choked, fighting her tears. "I just . I just. wish that you didn't have to go through this. Oh, Ginny." Soon, Ginny was the one providing comfort. She put her arms around Hermione, holding her in a gentle embrace. A pang of guilt struck her. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Hermione.  
  
Hermione cried for a few moments longer in Ginny's arms. Ginny felt a breath of courage. It was time to put it all on the table. "Hermione," she said in a low voice. Drawing Hermione back, she stared into the deep, brown eyes that haunted her thoughts and dreams. Her heart pounded so fiercely that she felt like her chest was going to explode. She had to finish her thought. "Hermione," she repeated, "it's you."  
  
Suddenly, the room was silent. Hermione was holding her breath, staring at Ginny's tear-stained face with a combination of shock and wonder. Their eyes were once again locked in an unblinking gaze. It felt like a month had passed by the time Hermione exhaled. She drew another deep breath, and held it again. Ginny's face remained solemn. Her look betrayed no emotion; her concerns had suddenly left her. The moment had come - the moment where she laid her soul before the one she loved. Hermione's lip trembled as a large tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"Ginny." Hermione finally spoke in a nearly inaudible whisper. "How." her voice trailed off.  
  
"I know," Ginny said, struggling for breath as another fit of tears gripped her, "I know."  
  
Hermione's deepening sorrow was suddenly apparent. She tried to speak, but could find no voice. Her hands still clung to Ginny slender forearms. Still lacking a voice, she shook her head slowly, crying all the while. Ginny wore a look of emotional distance, though tears still streamed down her solemn face. She didn't dare break the transfixing stare. At length, Hermione finally spoke.  
  
"In the woods," she said, her voice elevated only just above a whisper. "I . you . we . felt something. How could I not have known?" Hermione sniffed, still looking at Ginny, whose face had adopted a sullen expression. Silence once again fell, and the girls sat, still staring at one another, for what felt like hours.  
  
Finally, Hermione leaned back slightly. Ginny expected that she was going leave, perhaps never to speak to her again. But she wasn't getting up. Her damp face glistened in the light of the lantern. Her grip on Ginny's arms relaxed, and she took several deep, steady breaths. Ginny was worried for a moment, worried that her feelings had overwhelmed Hermione; worried that she made the wrong decision. Hermione still wasn't moving.  
  
Ginny stared at her, sitting lightly on her bed, her face illuminated by the enchanted lantern that hung from the beams of the high ceiling. Ginny felt herself trembling. Her desires were screaming for release. Her hands were lightly clutching Hermione's tiny shoulders as she stared into the beautiful face that made her life such a bittersweet agony. Before she could think twice, her passion had swept her away. Her hands slid softly down Hermione's side, stopping above her hips. Hermione shivered, but didn't open her eyes. Ginny felt a sudden chill as she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Hermione's graceful neck. Her thin lips made contact, brushing lightly against the soft skin below Hermione's chin. She exhaled sharply. In a flash, Ginny's passions ignited. She felt her very soul pushing her to prove the power of her love. She gently kissed Hermione's neck again, and again.  
  
Ginny's passion was blinding. She was so enveloped in her affection that she had scarcely noticed Hermione's reaction. Her eyes were still closed, though she now seemed to be forcing them shut. Her hands gripped the baggy sheets beneath her. Like before, her breathing was dramatic: sharp and halting. Ginny's hands moved stealthily to Hermione's back, sliding up her blouse. She pulled her gently in. Hermione yielded, her eyes still closed, tears still streaming down her face. Ginny perched herself on Hermione's lap, moving her lips first to her gentle chin and then toward her inviting, red lips.  
  
It was better than she had dreamed. Her hands caressed the soft skin of Hermione's back. She breathed in, intoxicated by the sweet scent of Hermione's tear-soaked skin. Ginny's hands once again wandered, one finally resting in the tangle of Hermione's soft curls, the other on her damp cheek. Hermione relaxed. Ginny drew her face even nearer. When her thin lips met Hermione's, she felt a shock radiate through her body. Her hands once again fell around Hermione's sides and she leaned in, gently pushing her onto her back. In seconds, Ginny laid herself down gently onto Hermione's trembling body and slowly moved her hands up Hermione's soft, exposed arms. Clasping her soft, cool hands, she moved in to kiss her again.  
  
"Ginny." Hermione said breathlessly, "no.." Ginny's grip loosened. Her passion abated. Hermione stared up at her, her eyes red from the falling tears. 


	7. Nightfall

VII. Nightfall  
  
By this point, Ginny was beyond tears. She stared quizzically at the trembling girl laying below her. Hermione's face wore a look of shocked surprise as she gasped for air, tears still streaming down her pale cheeks. Ginny was awestruck, suddenly realizing what had transpired in a matter of seconds. She could still taste Hermione, and she guiltily longed for more; for another long drink from her soft lips. But Hermione's shock confirmed what Ginny had feared most: she had scared her.  
  
"Perhaps there wasn't a chance all along," Ginny told herself despondently, "at least now I know." She sighed, shakily raising herself to a sitting position. "Good night," she uttered miserably. The lantern above her faded slowly until the room was filled with the dim light of a high moon. Hermione didn't move.  
  
Ginny pulled a heavy quilt from the ball of blankets at the middle of her bed and curled up tightly, trying to keep as much distance between herself and Hermione as she could. Embarrassment and shame consumed her. This had to be the end of her friendship with Hermione as she knew it. Was it worth it? Trading a few moments of mind-numbing passion for a friendship that spanned across the years? Ginny shivered as the gravity of her actions set in. "How could you, Ginny?" she thought, "how could you sacrifice something so dear to you for Ithat/I?"  
  
Dizzying thoughts danced through her head as she lay in the moonlit silence. Hermione's soft breathing was the only sound that broke the uncomfortable silence. She was still lying where Ginny had left her, her delicate curls framing her angelic features like an auburn halo. Ginny shut her eyes tightly, feeling bittersweet comfort in Hermione's presence. The intensity of her feelings proved to her that she loved Hermione. "But is it worth being around the one you love if she thinks you're disgusting?" she asked herself in a whisper. A solitary tear made a slow descent down her face. A wave of fatigue swept over her, and she yielded to it, with a wish to end the dismal evening.  
  
In a flash, the crooked walls of Ginny's moonlit room disappeared from sight. She was on the Hogwarts Express, standing before an open compartment. Dean Thomas was inside, sitting next to Seamus Finnigan and a few other Gryffindors. "Goodbye Dean," she said, reaching to shut the compartment, "It's been fun, but I've found true love." Slamming the compartment shut, she turned to walk away. The carriage suddenly became a dimly lit passage at Hogwarts. Ginny could see a slender figure running toward her in the flickering torchlight. Her heart leaped as she recognized the figure as Hermione. She was smiling, her curly hair streaming behind her as she ran. Her arms opened, and she threw herself at Ginny. "My love," she whispered, before swiftly and passionately kissing her. Several of her classmates walked past, taking no notice. Hermione released Ginny from the embrace to stare into her eyes. Her hand crept down to Ginny's side, coming to a rest just below her chest. Suddenly, she awoke.  
  
The room was aglow with the faint light of the distant moon. Ginny lay on her back, her clothes clinging to her sweaty body. She shifted slightly before she made a sudden and perplexing realization. Gasping, she felt Hermione's cool hand resting under her shirt, just above her slender midriff. Hermione was so close to Ginny that her gentle breaths tickled her cheek. Ginny was afraid to move; afraid to look over, in fear that she might still be dreaming. But it Ihad/I to be real. Ginny could feel Hermione's rapid pulse through her tiny hand; she could hear the gentle timbre of her sweet voice through her nervous breaths.  
  
Finally, Ginny carefully took her hand and laid it on top of Hermione's. Like the rest of her body, her palm was sweaty. Hermione tightened her grip slightly as Ginny felt her inching closer. Ginny's heart pounded furiously as Hermione's hand slid across her sweaty skin to her side. She was frozen to the spot as Hermione's slender leg tucked between her own. Hermione's face was only inches from Ginny's when she broke the awkward silence.  
  
"Ginny," she exhaled, "I'm sorry if I hurt you. It's just that. I didn't ." Her voice trailed off. Ginny had finally mustered up the courage to face the situation. She turned her head to face Hermione. The silence in the room thickened as their eyes met. Tears hung from Hermione's eyelids as she struggled for breath. Her eyes closed slowly as she removed her hand from Ginny's shirt. Before Ginny had a chance to think, she felt a small hand in her hair, gently pulling her closer. In an instant, a warm pair of lips softly brushed against her face, faintly touching her lips before resting on her cheek. Ginny breathed deeply, savoring the sweet scent of Hermione's breath. She hesitated to even move. Her hopes had already been dashed once tonight, mere moments away from the fulfillment of her desires. She knew that she wouldn't be able to face another letdown. She lay motionless, desperately hoping that Hermione would provide some direction. Minutes passed. Hermione's gentle breaths blew softly against Ginny's face, but neither girl stirred.  
  
Ginny drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like hours. She could at least find comfort in Hermione's presence. But she felt like she was cheating herself. She wanted to be closer, to shower Hermione with all of her affection. And yet, the lingering embarrassment of rejection gripped her. She couldn't move. Ginny breathed in deeply before letting out a deep sigh. She turned her head to look up at the dark ceiling, waiting for a restless sleep to sweep over her once again. As she shut her eyes, she felt Hermione's breath on her neck. The small hand in Ginny's hair moved swiftly to her abdomen. Hermione raked her fingernails gently against Ginny's supple skin. She kissed her again, touching her trembling lips to the corner of Ginny's open mouth.  
  
She could no longer resist. Hermione held her lips in place as Ginny turned her head to face her. Ginny felt a sudden sense of emotional release as her smiling lips closed around Hermione's. A warm tear sped across her mouth as she eased herself in. Hermione moaned softly as Ginny kissed her again, raking her teeth gently on her pouting upper lip. Hermione's eyes were closed. A faint smile played across her lips, and the weight of Ginny's desire suddenly overwhelmed her. Her body was now pressed against Hermione's, and it felt every bit as good as she could have imagined. Her hand slid under the back of Hermione's shirt, falling naturally to the small of her back. The warm flesh was like tonic to Ginny's thirsty senses. She kissed Hermione again, slowly parting her lips in invitation. Hermione shivered and responded meekly, gently tugging on Ginny's lower lip with her timid mouth. Her eyes were still closed, and her face wore a slightly uncomfortable expression.  
  
"Oh Ginny," she whispered, gently pulling away from Ginny's moonlit face, "I don't . maybe this wasn't such a good idea." But Ginny couldn't stop. Hermione's kiss had pushed her over the edge. Ginny followed Hermione as she rolled onto her back. Hermione looked desperately into Ginny's eyes as she unleashed a hail of frantic kisses onto her soft neck. A fleeting moment passed and Hermione was suddenly relaxed. Her hands fell gently onto Ginny's shifting back to pull her closer. Her body writhed as Ginny's thin lips teased her sensitive neck. It wasn't long before the flame of passion that was driving Ginny suddenly consumed her. Her hands found Ginny's soft, red mane and pulled her in for an open-mouthed kiss.  
  
Soft moans intertwined with deep breaths as Ginny's hands wandered under Hermione's shirt. Her hands rested on her soft, slender belly before moving up to her delicate chest. In a flash, Hermione's shirt was off, revealing a lacy, black bra. Ginny lowered her tingling lips to explore terrain that she had wandered only in her dreams. Lovingly brushing Hermione's curls to the side, she kissed her delicate shoulder. Her lips moved swiftly to her breasts, tracing the lacy contour of her bra. Her quivering hands soon joined her lips to softly massage Hermione's petite cleavage through the sheer lace. Hermione gasped as Ginny drew herself in for another drink from her parted lips. Ginny raised herself.  
  
"Ginny . don't stop." Hermione gasped, firmly grasping Ginny's narrow shoulders to pull her in. In the stillness, Ginny's heart pounded desperately. She was swelling with happiness as she desperately poured all of her emotion into the moment. Her tiny hands slipped under Hermione's diminutive body to lift her. She rolled onto her back and Hermione rose to straddle her. Hermione thrust her narrow hips into her trembling pelvis, straddling Ginny as she lay down. In a cloud of steamy breath and auburn curls, she launched herself onto Ginny, kissing her neck as her hands struggled to remove her loose t-shirt. Ginny's breasts tickled under her white bra as Hermione's breath teased the pale skin on her bare chest. Her hands unconsciously wandered up Hermione's unclothed back to the latches of her bra. Hermione followed suit, gently reaching under Ginny's quivering body to unclasp her white brassiere. In a flash, Ginny was savoring the feeling of Hermione's small chest driving into her own soft mounds. Ginny let out a quiet moan as Hermione's lips began to explore her chest and neck. And the evening was still young .  
  
Dawn's purple light had snuck over the horizon by the time Hermione finally laid her weary head to rest on Ginny's shoulder. Ginny paused before allowing herself to slip away into her slumber. Hermione lay sleeping in her arms, her soft locks blanketing her naked chest. It was as if all of her dreams had suddenly come true. She could still taste Hermione on her lips. Her tongue prickled as she remembered the many kisses she'd shared with her that evening. She could have lived in that moment forever, feeding on the love, excitement and satisfaction. A contented smile stole across her face as she slipped into a deep sleep, her arms wrapped around Hermione's small, sleeping figure. 


End file.
